As Time Goes By
by lanterns at sunset
Summary: Ginny Weasley is slowly wasting away, then in the school year Draco makes her misery a little more difficult than she could have imagined
1. When Fires Burn Out

Title: As time Goes By

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters, settings, etc.

Chapter 1

As Candles Dim

Living is like being on fire. Passionately engulfing surroundings, emitting smoke and steam and dancing dangerously over and into whatever is in the way. Yet slowly, as all fires do, they burn out and dim and flicker and then

They die. And we die with them.

Our bodies smolder and take on so many burdens and pain and constriction that they wither away and turn to ash.

Ginny Weasley was tired. She was tired of Tom taunting and poisoning her mind with lies that she thought to be real. She was tired of the tirade her brothers and mother and father put up saying that everything was ok. She loved them sincerely and passionately and whole heartedly.

But, as it were, Ginny Weasley was tired. She was tired of fighting. Tired of everything.

And so at the age of 16 the fire was going out of Ginny Weasley, she was burning out. And as surely as a fire dims Ginny Weasley was dieing. Slowly but certainly.

Ginny Weasley was dieing and unless someone could give her incentive to live, for only she can keep herself alive, only she can keep the fire burning inside of her. Because living is her choice and if she wants to die she will, but if someone won't let her…

Well then, the fire that is Ginny Weasley will glow and strengthen and burn brightly and furiously until her body gives out. Even so, her choice to live would keep her burning for a much longer time than if she just gave up.

And in the coming school year somebody would make it very difficult for her to give up.


	2. The trouble with Watching

Title: As Time Goes By

Disclaimer: Don't own anything

Chapter 2

The trouble with Watching

She smiled reminiscently as she let the colors before her eyes blur out of the Hogwarts Express window. Her mother smiled fondly and her dad was waving energetically at the platform. Mrs. Weasley had a firm grip on her husband as not to let him topple into the train.

Soon the homely villages rolled into springy hills and grass and golden sunsets. Her eyes lingered on the compartments inhabitants. Harry Potter, swiped at the messy black hair in front of his eyes so he could sit mesmerized at how easily the gangly youth with freckles before him had beaten him at wizards chess.

"Harry, you can't be so surprised. I don't think you've ever won against Ron," Hermione said, her chocolate eyes observed skeptically.

"Yeah, well, there was that one time…" his brow furrowed.

"And what time would that be?" she retorted.

Ron grinned smugly.

It's always the same, thought Ginny. Still there was a security, a warmth within the three of them. She smiled bitterly. There was something between them. There always was. A panal, a wall, a screen. Something she could see through but never be apart of.

Harry's emerald eyes flickered toward her, concerned.

Damn, caught again.

She was always caught staring. People seemed to think that made her interested. She was, but not in that way. She could tell a lot about a person just by looking. She could tell that Harry was softening toward her, something she regretted immensely because of that stupid glass panal separating them. She knew that Hermione had suffered quite a blow when Viktor Krum broke up with her this last summer. Nobody else knew they were going out or that they broke up but she did. She could see the older girls eyes light up with the mail. She knew where Hermione spent her vacations when she wasn't at the burrow. She knew Ron inside and out. She knew that he was well in love with Hermione but too wrapped up in life that he hadn't realized it. She knew. And she knew because she saw.

Some people just didn't have enough sense to know what they were looking at.

There was a shattering of glass and an outraged and surprised yelp a little down the corridor. They could hear the china break soft and delicate as raindrops.

"What the.."

"Ron!" Hermione protested.

Soon enough, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zambini strolled into their compartment like the pompous king of the worlds they imagined themselves. Ginny caught a glance at the frazzled trolley witch trying to upright her food cart.

"Now that wasn't nice," she said complacently, " I was hungry."

The trio stared blankly at her. They had rashly jumped to their feet and had their wands ready to attack.

Draco looked amusedly at the littlest Weasley who was sitting ever so nonchalantly with her head cocked to one side like a puppy swinging her feet off of the red seat.

She was petite enough that only the tips of her toes brushed the carpet.

Draco was taken aback at the expectant look in her eyes. Where was the fire? Where was her spirit. That was all the fun in it, to get her riled up to see her splutter and cheeks redden. Now she, she just…she just sat there expecting his comments and accepting them with that pitying look. Who was she to pity him?

Ginny could see, she could see that he had free reign on his life now, now that the Dark Lord was killed and by no one less than Harry himself. Still the Death Eaters were angry. There were still uprisings and scuffles but now that they had no leader they had nobody to bow down to.

Yes, Draco Malfoy was no death Eater. But he was still a Slytherin.

And the hex he aimed at their luggage making it fall and tumble and break haphazardly around them as he swept elegantly out of the room was enough to make her see that he didn't know what to do with himself.

Because for once in his life he was free. He could make his own choices without fear.

But Draco Malfoy was still a Slytherin. And for Harry Potter that was reason enough to despise him.

Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin. And for Ginny Weasley, that reason didn't matter to her at all. At least anymore.


	3. Like Dental Work

Disclaimer: I do not own any original characters, etc.

Chapter 3

Like Dental Work

The trio was oblivious to Ginny's suffering, as usual at dinner. Her eyes whisked around the Hall for means of escape. Escaping what, she didn't really know herself. Resigning herself for Dumbledore's speech and the Sorting Hat Ceremony she looked blankly at her full plate not remembering putting anything there to start.

"You like sweet potatoes," Ron said and piled more onto her plate through his own overflowing mouth.

Her eyes couldn't help but sparkle. Dumbledore never failed to inspire, and Ron, though he could be a dunderhead at times obviously looked out for Ginny.

Draco, somewhat resentful with her for failing to start a fight looked curiously at her. Her eyes shone. Not like on the train. On the train they were dull and completely void. What was wrong with her? The war was hard on everybody. Especially on him. Did he look changed.

Well maybe he didn't look changed but he was. He wasn't a murderer. He wouldn't fight for either side but he secretly had sought refuge from Dumbledore in exchange for information and an oath that he didn't go back to his father and Lord Voldemort.

Looking around he realized, things have changed, sooner than they would have if they hadn't lived through the war. But the changes would have taken place anyway.

Some where more weary, somber, hurt, dignified, hardened. Some more livened, more accepting, more free having to work beside those who they never would have thought they would.

Goyle grunted on his left trying to grope for the pumpkin pie that was only in Draco's reach. Harrassed because he had been jolted out of his own ponderous thoughts he shoved the pie toward Crabbe having forgotten which thug wanted it in the beginning.

Ginny clapped loudly when Valentino, November was sorted into Gryffindor. Even though they had joined together in the war Hogwarts kept its old tradition.

November was small and delicate with pale skin and hawk like eyebrows. Her black swinging braid she swept over her shoulder and misty hazel eyes that were so dream like seemed to bore into Ginny's own melting brown ones.

Ginny was taken aback. Never had she seen such a fierce 11 year old. She strode to Ginny sat down beside her and said,

"I'm November and I'd be very much obliged if you would take me to my classes tomorrow, thanks."

Under normal circumstances, well maybe not normal, but her old self would have taken this twit rather badly. Instead she only turned her head and said, "if you want."

"I do," November said firmly.

November was a precocious child not only in intellect but she could tell that this girl before her was fading away and if she couldn't stop it she at least wanted to know why. And if she was boisterous and headstrong not unlike Ginny Weasley once was if only a little more unfeeling then… well maybe Ginny would pick herself back up after seeing a sort of her youthful self and then seeing what she has become.

Ginny was true to her word and showed November where to go the next day. Although they were only a few weeks into school things were routine as dental work.

She would listen idly to the trio in her spare time, go to classes. She stared vacantly and expressionlessly at her teachers who were somewhat unnerved by her and all of the other students. The other students. They got back into the swing of things. They didn't brood and repent.

November became a thorn in her side. Always there and pricking. She would not accept being ignored and Ginny was sometimes resigned to her but others she snapped back or laughed at something cynical she had said.

Draco alone in his dorm with none other than the elegant and supercilious Blaise Zambini and the even more supercilious Pansy Parkinson were just loitering. They were like him. They took more active roles in the war working aside Dumbledore than he had but they had had less to lose.

Draco interrupted Pansy who was in peals of laughter after Blaise recounted his most recent confrontation with Sir Cadogen.

"What do you think is the matter with Weaslette?"

Pansy looked at him curiously, " the same that is the matter with the rest of us. She's seen too much."

Indeed, after he thought about it she had. She worked as a Healer though underaged and untrained she was natural with people and healing. Of course she had seen the brunt of the war. The mangled bodies and messes. In the beginning he remembered, she'd roar like a lion and weep for the men and women that were in her care. Of course she lost some. Hers was a pressure he had never known.

And then and there he resolved that he would heal the Weaslette who was much more broken than anybody she had ever healed.

He told his two best friends afraid of their responses.

"We're all in, mate."


	4. The Game We Play

Disclaimer: I don't own any original characters or settings

Hey, school started and it's really hard to find the time to update, sorry it took so long! Please review! I really appreciate it! It's my first story!

Chapter 4

The Game We Play

Quidditch fever seeped through the very walls of the castle. Everybody was a little antsy. Although the first match was Gryffindor and Hufflepuff (Gryffindor won naturally) all were anticipating the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match the next day.

Much to Ginny's exasperation, November made the team as beater. She had a knack at whacking the bludger with a force you wouldn't suppose somebody that small would have. She also had an uncanny knack at hitting it dangerously close to Ginny.

She needed the edge, November thought. To Ginny, all games were the same now. She played seamlessly but with no heart, no desire. She couldn't be reprimanded but she couldn't be congratulated. The games blurred into one another and she couldn't remember what happened or when. There was no excitement, just monotonous repetition. She'd score a few goals, the other team would try to catch up and Harry would catch the snitch. But November could see a spark, a glimmer of excitement of will when she hit the bludger dangerously close to her only to swerve expertly and hit the opposing team.

Draco noticed too. Something new and brilliant had to happen and soon. He could see the spark that annoying November probed. He had had a few run ins with November himself. She was a snarky little witch and because she was a first year that gave her the benefit of the doubt. She had tripped him up in his own robes and when he turned around to pummel her she was trembling beside Professor McGonagall. He had gotten a detention for "terrorizing" her. Who knew those hazel eyes could get so big?

"Do you know what would shock the poor little Weaslette out into living?" Blaise asked nonchalantly the night before the big game.

"What?" asked Draco perturbed.

Blaise sat bolt upright and his indigo eyes bore into his own steely ones.

"Win the match."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"That way you could beat Potter and try to jolt the Weasley. You'd be killing two birds with one stone. Just win."

Draco sneered, " I intend to."

Truth be told he hadn't forgotten the Weasley. But the importance of the game was weighing heavily on him. And if he got her riled up, he knew that she could pose a threat. But which was more important. Winning or losing the Weasel to herself.

He shook himself and fell into a fretful sleep.

The cool October day was brisk and biting. Orange and red and magenta leaves crinkled in the air.

Harry marched onto the fields the red robes billowing behind his team. The formed an impressive lot. Even November with her fierce black hair and sharp features but her knowing dreamy eyes seemed abstract. Ron held his head high and proud.

The Slytherins were just as intimidating. They always were. Draco snarled at Harry and nodded to Madame Hooch to let her know they were ready. At her whistle they took off into the blinding yellow sun.

The intensity whirled and the game grew physical. Goyle jammed his elbow into Ginny's gut and she whirled around, her eyes flashing. Both teams were taking a beating and neither were backing down. Out of the corner of her eye she saw somebody pull November's long braid and she whipped around and clubbed him with her bat.

Way to go! Ginny inwardly cheered. And soon enough a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She accepted the war the changes but that didn't mean life was over. She still had a life to live and she wouldn't be pushed around.

Ginny's old nature took over. Her hair turned lose like a fiery bird and she wouldn't be pushed around. The change was enormous, but only to those who looked. November saw it. Draco saw it. His insides lurched. And as his body lurched forward as well he caught the snitch.

Harry's eyes grew wide with surprise and torment. He lost.

Even though the team was despairing Ginny felt better than she had since she had in a very long time. She cared that her team had just lost. And being able to hurt felt good.

On her way in Draco was sweeping past her. She was ready for an arrogant remark ready for his words that stung like barbed wire and she was ready to fight.

"Good game," he commended leaving her gaping openmouthed in the autumn leaves.

What the hell? She thought. Draco Malfoy just said good game? Something has got to be wrong.

And just like that, Ginny WEasley was finally Ginny WEasley again and ready to face the world, and more importantly, Draco Malfoy.


End file.
